


Close Your Eyes and Make Believe

by mousaerato



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Dry Humping, First Time, Grinding, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Language of Flowers, M/M, Marking, Masturbation, Possessive Behavior, Rough Kissing, Secret Crush, Self-Hatred, Sexual Fantasy, Sloppy Makeouts, Strangulation, Tenderness, Undecided Relationship(s), hanakotoba
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-31 00:35:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8555728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mousaerato/pseuds/mousaerato
Summary: He'll play along.





	

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS FOR PERSONA 5

“ _A place made from the twisted desires of people_ ,” they called it; a vile and sinister cesspool where demons take shape from the tar-black filth of a so-called ‘human’ mind. The image from the words was vivid: the acrid smell of burned hair, singed flesh, the pitter-patter of thousands of pitch-tinted insect limbs with a humming, frenzied buzz.  Degenerate, despairing, vile –

Goro Akechi’s eyes widened involuntarily as he opened the smoothly-painted coal-hued door to the room inside. A faint, thin musk of gardenia wafted to his nostrils while creamy beeswax-colored walls framed the room. As he stepped further into the room, he could discern the practically plush texture of the lavender-gray carpet even under his shoes; comfortable, welcoming even. The couch was immaculate, a dim ecru; the wooden coffee table was similarly spotless, hosting a glass vase of yellow camellias and pastel-pink carnations. Even in the next room beyond, Goro saw no signs of mar or maltreatment – the kitchen floor was without stain, and the curtains on the windows were ivory white and smelled of fresh linen. The scene, the scents, and utter _softness_ of it all made the boy feel warm inside; indeed, the room even looked like faint candlelight.

Only after an unwitting sigh escaped his lips did Goro’s muscles relax from their normal attentiveness. Still, the detective gazed carefully upon the walls: framed photographs of an adult male and a young child, faces smeared and edges blurred beyond recognition. Some were clearly planned photos, indoors with formal clothing; others appeared to be outside playing in grass greener than he had ever seen. A tickle of curiosity – _curiosity_ , he was certain – pricked at his chest as he tried to discern the figures and faces. He ran long, gloved fingers along the pristine glass above the photos with deep interest, walking around the room to find some detail to give him context. Boredom and restlessness began to bloom in his mind – _same, same, same_ – until he reached the right wing of the room. A staircase, similarly flawless, stood before him.

The dark-haired boy hummed to himself in satisfaction as he glided contently up the stairs. Along the butter-yellow walls were award ribbons, at times seemingly translucent, peppered between more smeared, blurred, featureless images of a child with a man by his side. The aroma of gardenia was stronger now; he knew he was coming to its origin. At the top of the stairs, Goro walked, nearly gliding now, down a glossy, cleaner-scented hallway to a lavender-painted door. Without thinking, he grasped the doorknob and opened the door. It was as if no other choice was conceivable.

This time, there was no surprise in what his dark eyes observed. Perfection abounded, as anticipated: one window with cream-colored curtains, pastel peach walls, a desk with a vase of twenty-two identical gardenias perfuming the room, a small bed with pristine bone-ivory sheets, and the same lavender-gray carpet beneath it all. Seemingly autonomously, Goro removed his shoes and socks, allowing himself to feel the floor for himself. _Soft, clean, immaculate. Sterile._

The silence and idealism of the place choked him; it knotted into a lump in his stomach that churned violently upwards to his throat. Still, the young man pushed those emotions downwards in defiance, instead willing his body and his mind to sit on the edge of the bed. A deep, shaky exhale left his body, emptying his lungs as if to purge himself of the feelings that had found their way up again. Closing his eyes, he could feel thoughts becoming words: “ _I know. I know. I-“_

“Stop it,” he spoke, shattering the ubiquitous quiet as he grabbed a piece of bed sheet in his left hand in frustration. As he released the sheet, he took a moment to notice the wrinkles and imperfections he had created. A small voice rose from his throat, a plea rather than a command now: “Stop.” Hands calm with resignation, Goro quietly removed his gloves and tossed them apathetically to the floor. His jacket next, followed by his tie, draped over the edge of the bed without care for order or cleanliness. Finally, he allowed himself to rest in the bed, pulling sheets over himself as he closed his eyes and let his mind become quiet.

Seconds dragged into minutes; eventually, Goro gave up on keeping track of the time. He wanted not to think so much. He wanted not to analyze, not to plot, not to plan. The steady, cold rage he felt in his heart had finally given way to exhaustion – limbs heavy with ~~guilt~~ sleepiness, focus dimming. He wanted something else; he wanted something different, he wanted –

The sound of soft but certain footsteps woke the boy from his trance-like haze. They gradually increased in volume, and by the time Goro had risen from the bed, the thud of footsteps had been replaced by the sound of a hand opening the door. As if sleepwalking, he stepped confidently to the door to greet the guest. The detective knew who it was, of course; it didn’t take his skill to know.

Clean, well-worn black dress shoes slipped from the body’s feet to the floor as the person approached Goro, standing mere inches away from him. The body paused, allowing the young man to take in the details of their form: slim legs in black and red plaid pants, jet-black blazer with crimson buttons, revealing a snow-white shirt beneath at the chest, pale neck, sharp jaw, steel-gray eyes framed by slick black glasses, and similarly black hair in curls on his head.

Tenuously, Goro’s hands softly grasped the young man’s glasses as the two gazed at each other. Akira’s determined gray eyes looked intently, unchangingly at Goro as he removed the glasses, allowing them to fall to the floor near the two pairs of shoes. A silence lingered between them, the air hot and thick with emotion, tensely urging one of them to take action. Still, Akira’s eyes remained unchanged as he placed a hand on the side of Goro’s face, using his thumb to trace his cheek in a gesture of tenderness. A chill and shudder rocked the brown-haired boy then; the sheer thrill of Akira’s touch made him close his eyes tightly before opening them quickly to take in those same, unchanging gray eyes. There was no fear or doubt in them; taking comfort from them, Goro acted.

Placing both hands at the sides of his face, Goro let his fingers intermingle with the youth’s dark curls, grasping at them with certainty as he closed the space between them at last. Akira’s lips were soft, warmer and more moist than expected; he could detect a lingering bit of warm, roasted coffee on the boy’s mouth as he planted small, soft pecks against it, asking for more.  His invitation was answered with pale hands settling firmly on Goro’s hips, pulling him closer and allowing their chests to touch, creating a seam of jet black and bone white. The heat and proximity overwhelmed Goro, and with Akira’s approving gesture, he attempted to part the other boy’s lips, hungrily sucking his lower lip and allowing the tip of his tongue to skim it. Akira’s hands tightened instinctively, holding Goro to him like a vise, encouraging the still-soft sounds of their lips locking to become more intense. In response to the tongue, Akira bit softly at Goro’s lower lip, allowing his teeth to drag gently along it, eliciting a throaty, soft sound.  Goro’s hands moved frantically from Akira’s head and slid down his back, fingers skimming along his spine, savoring the sensation as his hands moved then to Akira’s waist, then up to his lapels, gripping them as he attempted a deeper kiss. The meeting of their tongues was messy and chaotic, but the sensation of being able to taste his friend was absolutely intoxicating: sweet, with a mix of that same warm coffee he had come to associate with the boy, combined with the scent of his skin from being so close. It was everything Goro expected and everything he wanted.

 The scene settled into a rhythm: deep, passionate kisses with tilted necks and sounds of affirmation, punctuated with soft, chaste kisses to the lips and corners of the mouth. As they became comfortable with the pace, the rest of the boys’ bodies began to quicken it – Akira stepping forward, making Goro step backwards toward the bed, and Goro’s hands tugging desperately at the lapels of Akira’s coat, as if trying to find a way to remove it without extricating himself from the gray-eyed boy’s grasp. Feeling his leg touching the edge of the bed, Goro allowed himself to fall back in the soft sheets, giving Akira the chance to move his hands from his torso. Akira leaned forward into him, not yet joining the other boy in bed, but giving him the chance to remove the coat. Seeing the opportunity, Goro did so with aggression, practically tearing off the red buttons as he undid them, pulling it from the boy’s frame and allowing Akira to remove his arms from the sleeves, letting it fall to the floor.

The brunette stopped for a moment to appreciate the view, particularly of Akira’s neck: pale, warm, and inviting. Without a second thought, Goro kissed at it gently, curious to the response. Akira responded with a sudden, sharp exhale, placing his hands frenziedly at the back of Goro’s head, keeping him at his neck. The sound and sudden feeling of Akira’s hands on him sent a jolt of energy and warmth pooling in his abdomen, causing his pants to feel suddenly too tight. This, combined with the excitement, caused the boy to blush as he continued to lavish his partner with kisses and taunting bites along his neck and collarbone.

Akira took the moment to act, finally letting himself into the bed, hands resting against the white sheets on either side of Goro’s head as he loomed on his knees over him. His steel-gray eyes stared intensely, still confidently, into the chestnut eyes of his partner, waiting. The detective knew what he wanted; he sat up slowly and looked self-consciously at his own shirt, letting his fingers play at the hem. Before he could begin removing it, Akira’s lips curved upward into that smirk Goro knew all too well – the one that made him weak inside with fear and excitement. Pale, smooth hands started at the first button of his shirt, gently working his way down as Goro felt himself freeze, uncertain of how to respond. Just as he was finding words again, Goro found himself at the mercy of another wave of pleasure shake him as Akira’s tongue dragged from his exposed abdomen to his chest, leaving a chilly sensation and a desperate desire for the warmth of his tongue again. A cocky chuckle escaped from Akira then, getting close to his friend’s face and smirking, waiting for his response. Not to be humiliated or outdone, Goro’s hands reached for the black-haired boy’s shirt, making little ceremony of taking it off his body and letting it lodge itself between the wall and the mattress; he never once took his eyes off of Akira, making sure to keep an intense gaze.

The two boys took a moment to look at each other, torsos completely bare. Goro, finding himself again, was the first to make a move. He extended his hand to touch at Akira’s chest, admiring it as his fingers dragged lower to feel the muscles at taut abdomen. He looked exactly the way he imagined he would, hoped he would – even with the thin layer of sweat from their passionate interactions. Goro felt no shame or shyness around Akira in his undressed state – he knew, somehow, that the dark-haired boy would be pleased with him. Sure enough, Akira showed his appreciation with a deep, lingering kiss, pressing Goro back into the mattress and straddling his hips, giving a moan of approval as the brunette laced his fingers into his black locks, pulling at the curls and savoring the feeling of the soft hair against his skin. The sensation of being pinned under Akira’s weight was overwhelming; unintentionally, Goro bucked his hips up into his friend’s, earning him Akira’s pulling his hands away from his hair and pinning his arms over his head, but not without a thrust in response.

Akira broke their kiss and looked at the squirming, overheated youth beneath him, opting then to kiss along his jawline and down his neck, sucking slightly into it. This elicited an undignified moan and whine from the brunette, and another thrust of his pelvis upward. Akira pressed into Goro’s arms harder, tightening his grip on his wrists as he felt the boy try to free his arms. Another blessed bruise came, sharp pain mixing with the pressure and pleasure of feeling helpless underneath the trickster and pooling straight between his legs. He throbbed when he felt Akira grind into him again, making it obvious that he was just as eager.

Finally, Goro found himself able to break free of Akira’s grip, hands now wandering to the pale boy’s belt as recognized the sound of his own heavy breaths for the first time. Goro examined the image before him as he sat up again: Akira’s eyes were closed, lost in action, torso glistening under the light as his hips and groin impatiently rutted subtly against Goro’s instinctively, autonomously.  The image was too perfect to break with useless, stuttered words – instead, the brunette let his fingers work quickly, deftly unhooking the boy’s black belt from its buckle, pulling the length from the loops and dropping it to the floor beneath them.

The soft thud and clink of metal roused Akira from his trance. The boy’s eyes opened, seemingly darker than before, and held the brown-haired detective in his gaze. His glare was all-consuming; Goro could neither look away nor move as his hands remained close to Akira’s zipper. A trickle of adrenaline found its way down his spine as he looked back into those dark-gray eyes; something in the room had changed, he realized. For a split second, he doubted his actions – perhaps it was too much, too soon, too bold. Thankfully, the fear was quickly abated, replaced by the familiar hum and electricity of excitement as the youth above him began to finish what he had started, undoing the top button of his pants and punctuating the quiet soundtrack of soft panting with the sound of a zipper. Legs shifted around as the two of them worked together to strip Akira’s pants away, leaving ivory, lean legs and charcoal-tinted boxers in their absence, tented by his erection.

A smile played upon Akira’s lips now, glare replaced with a kinder glance, discerning Goro’s hesitation. His warm, pale hands smoothed at Goro’s still-covered thighs as he moved to close the space between them, inching precariously close to his cock, earning a sharp, exhaled hiss as Akira’s palms passed over the heat to his belt buckle. As Goro expected, Akira worked with agility; indeed, it seemed it took only seconds for it to end up mingled with the other scraps of clothing on the floor. Savoring the proximity, Goro took another chance to play with Akira’s hair as he worked on his pants, rubbing into his scalp encouragingly as he could feel that suffocating layer of fabric fall away, leaving him in nothing but ash gray boxers, hot with want and moist at the front with precum.

He thought he would feel shame from his unbidden responses, but once Akira returned to kissing him, biting his lips and roughly shoving his tongue into his mouth, only desire filled his mind. Goro forced himself to take inventory of each sensation as they kissed: the same welcome pressure of Akira’s chest against his, the feeling of sweaty skin crashing and gliding against more flesh, the heady musk of arousal that permeated the room, overwhelming the gardenias, the force and desperation with which Akira let himself between his legs as he licked along Goro’s jaw, and his own legs parting to give the other boy space, pulling him closer as he began to kiss along Akira’s neck, biting and sucking deeply enough to leave the beginnings of a faint brown bruise. The gesture earned a throaty grunt from Akira, coupled with a roll of his hips, causing their erect cocks to collide and grind together.  Goro pulled at his hair and thrusted upward in response, intensifying the friction between them.

Akira hissed when he felt dull nails rake his back, forcing his eyes open to look at the culprit. He saw the brown-eyed boy’s pupils were large with desire, his cheeks exhibiting a minor blush, biting at his lower lip as if to restrain himself from making more of the small, feral sounds he was prone to generate unwittingly. Goro looked up at the boy with adoration and desire, hands now resting at his hips, urging him on. Without breaking his gaze, Akira thrusted against Goro again, watching the young man sigh and struggle to keep his eyes open as he continued his work, tilting his hips at just the right angle to rub Goro just the way he liked it. A moan tore from his lips this time, full-bodied and undignified, in unison with his own desperate canting upwards to increase the tension and the pace. His hands moved instinctively to Akira’s ass, pulling him closer, encouraging him.

Goro panted, still trying desperately to keep his eyes open. He wanted to memorize the scene, keep it tucked away his memory for as long as he could. A sudden shift in weight, however, coupled with a new pressure, drew all his attention from the pale form on top of him and to his dick. Akira’s hand had found its way between Goro’s legs, now squeezing at his dick from outside his boxers. Words dried up and died in his mouth as he watched a soft, certain right hand work on him, still teasingly, now gripping and covering his tip, jerking softly without reaching underneath the last layer of fabric between them.

A huffed groan came from Goro now; half frustration and half pleasure, desperation bleeding through. Akira looked up from his work and into Goro’s eyes, looking for a sign or direction. Finally, the detective managed to sputter out words, pathetic and biting: “Yes – yes, y-“

His lips were suddenly busied with the other boy’s tongue, caught in a violent, wet kiss. Akira slipped Goro’s boxers off to his knees, leaving the boy completely nude beneath him, and brought his hand from his crotch up between them. Goro’s eyes closed from the sudden loss of sensation; when he heard the sound of the other boy spitting, he knew what would come next with excitement and anxiety.

A loud moan of approval permeated the room as Akira’s slick hand firmly gripped Goro’s dick, encasing it in moist warmth. Goro bucked forward automatically, still groaning as Akira tugged along the length, keeping the pressure constant. He worked slowly, giving the base a tight squeeze as he pumped the boy’s dick, feeling it throb in his hand. Still, the sounds Goro made left it abundantly clear he wanted more, gasping roughly into the air noisily. His sounds were suddenly muffled, finding Akira’s other hand now firmly clamping over his mouth. Akira’s face was now inches away from his own, eyes dark and determined, glare daring him to try to be too loud again. Goro felt suddenly powerless under his hands – powerless, but safe  – letting his eyes close in bliss, but not without licking at the hand over his mouth. The fingers entered his mouth now instead, the boy sucking on them hungrily, not caring about the saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth.

Akira knew his partner wanted more. He continued his work, increasing the speed gradually with his other hand, meeting Goro’s thrusts with a warm, steady grip. He would at times rotate his hand, letting his paramour feel the sensation of having his dick encircled intermingled with the simple jerks. Goro’s hips shivered and he sucked harder on his lover’s fingers, soaking them with spit; Akira knew he was close as he hummed to Goro in approval. Sure enough, a few pumps later, Akira could feel Goro’s dick twitch, spilling hot streams of cum on his hand and his lover’s stomach.

The scene was quiet then. Akira removed his hand from Goro’s mouth, marveling at his sticky fingers and the boy beneath him. Goro opened his eyes, seemingly moist from tears, and looked at Akira expectantly, caring not one bit about the mess on his body, the chaos on the floor, the odor of the room. A smile was in his eyes as he said the words, softly but decisively: “I love you.”

Akira looked back at him, silent, wearing the same determined expression in those steel-gray eyes.

“I love you,” he repeated. “Tell me you love me, too.”

“I love you,” Akira responded, but the words sounded a wrong note to Goro. No, the words were hollow, devoid of that curvature in tone that denoted sincerity, and Goro knew it.

“ _Tell me you love me,”_ Goro commanded as his limbs found their way out of entropy, putting on his boxers and abruptly rising to his knees to meet his lover’s empty gray gaze. Unfocused eyes and stiff lips responded, “I love you,” still mechanical, apathetic.

“Are you saying that because you feel that way, or because I’m telling you to?” The brown-haired boy demanded now, hands trembling with anger. “I _love_ you. Tell me you love me too.”

“I love you,” the body responded, voice seemingly removed from its source. The voice was too thin, practically metallic this time, Goro noticed.  Finally, Goro put his hands around Akira’s neck, shaking. His voice revealed a roughness and fury as he responded to Akira’s declaration: “No, you don’t! You’re-”

Goro stopped mid-sentence as he came to the realization that Akira’s eyes were now blank, matte, and inhuman. A wave of disgust and fresh rage surged through Goro’s veins as he began to press down tightly on the body’s throat.

Choking noises came from Akira’s form, somehow mocking Goro. He continued, pressing harder into the skin: “You never could! Liar!” With the last word, Goro released his neck and punched the body in the nose and cheek, earning a trail of blood down his face and the beginning of the swelling of a bruise. Goro looked at the face, which offered no resistance, no response, and kicked the form off the bed to the floor, tears in his eyes. The body’s lack of response infuriated him, prompting a staccato yell before he continued to strangle him.

He watched the body’s breathing slow to a stop as he tightened, knowing he would soon crush the boy’s windpipe. He spat in Akira’s face, growing, “ _You’re a liar. You don’t love me. You just do what I think you’d do.”_ A splitting, crushing noise broke the tense silence, brusquely signaling the end. Akira’s eyes rolled back in his head, and Goro watched as the deep red blood, sweaty ivory skin, and beautiful black tresses disintegrated and melted into a pool of black tar, and eventually faded away.

Resignation painted his voice now: “No. You couldn’t ever really love me.”

 _“A place made from the twisted desires of people,”_ Goro remembered. Yes, a happy home with a doting parent and an understanding lover were certainly his own twisted desires – he knew that from the moment he walked into the door. Twisted, vile, and impossible. He knew the home would soon fade into nothingness, mixing again in this world created by human thought.

Still, it was nice to be able to pretend, even if only for a while.

 


End file.
